


beatific

by Archadian_Skies



Category: Kuroshitsuji : The Most Beautiful DEATH in the World - Iwasaki/Mori/Mari, Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, the thorn disease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 10:22:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17405156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archadian_Skies/pseuds/Archadian_Skies
Summary: He only needs one soul, one last soul, and that will make one thousand souls harvested to cure Alan of the Thorn. He only needs one last soul, and there’s one right there, that brat of a boy with his insufferable leashed demon. So Eric swings his Scythe and two things happen at supernatural speed; Alan throws himself in front of the boy and the demon pins Eric’s Scythe between both his hands.(an alternate ending to The Most Beautiful Death in the World)





	beatific

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thislittlekumquat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thislittlekumquat/gifts).



> Tumblr prompt: "what we shared before sunrise"

He only needs one soul, one last soul, and that will make one thousand souls harvested to cure Alan of the Thorn. He only needs one last soul, and there’s one _right there_ , that brat of a boy with his insufferable leashed demon. So Eric swings his Scythe and two things happen at supernatural speed; Alan throws himself in front of the boy and the demon pins Eric’s Scythe between both his hands.

“Y-you-” Ciel stammers, eyes wide as he’s frozen in place with shock. Alan takes a shaky breath and releases it before turning around.

“You’re alright.” He says gently, reassuringly, because Alan’s always been so much better at comforting humans than Eric.

“I’m afraid this soul is spoken for, Agent Slingby.” Sebastian smiles politely, releasing the Scythe and stepping back. “And you will find it is far from innocent, so it will be no use to you at all.”

He barely hears him, hears only the unvoiced disappointment and disapproval from Alan as the other reaper looks at him with unwavering anguish.

“My Lord, how shall I proceed?” The demon asks, and the boy seems to have composed himself.

“Her Majesty tasked me with finding the murderer, and here he is.” He points at Eric with his cane. “The Queen’s Watchdog must dispose of undesirables, but-” His composure wavers as he darts a glance at Alan. “But I have no desire to bring about the wrath of the Reapers. That deranged redhead caused us enough trouble, I don’t want a repeat of that.” Ciel’s tone takes a sharp, bitter turn. “Mortal wounds heal for you, do they not?” He demands of Eric.

“If made with mortal weapons, yes.” He nods.

“Sebastian wound him, and we’ll take his bloodied jacket as proof.” He points his cane at Eric again. “You will take your friend and you will go. If you need one last soul take a dying grandfather for pity’s sake. If we ever see you again, I will order Sebastian to kill you do you understand?”

He barely manages a nod before Sebastian sinks a knife deep into his chest. The knife doesn’t burn the way a Scythe would, only hurts the way any annoying wound hurts through gritted teeth and laboured breaths.

“Here, take these.” Alan offers quietly, holding out their two pairs of spectacles. “Her Majesty might perhaps believe two people could cause the murders more readily than just one man.”

“Alan this isn’t on you at all!” Eric shouts in protest, “You had nothing to do with it.”

“I had everything to do with it, you did it in my name!” Alan retorts, fire in his eyes as he stares him down. “How _dare_ you say I-” The breath is knocked out of him as Sebastian plunges his knife deep into his back.

“Apologies, we’ll be needing your jacket now too.” He says smoothly with a bemused smile as Alan shoots him an irritated glare. “Please hand them to me and then we’ll be on our way.”

Eric shrugs out of his torn jacket, Alan doing the same, and they hand them over and it feels like a contract has been signed.

 

The pair leave and Eric knows they must too. The others will be looking for them, and if they’re found, Eric will be forcibly brought back to the Division for a trial and sentencing. They take to the roofs, putting some distance between them and the Viscount’s manor before coming to stop on a secluded hill when Alan’s body can no longer take the strain.

“Look away one last time, Alan.” Eric pleads, taking his hand. “I just need one last soul and you’ll be cured.”

“I won’t let you do that, and you know it!” Alan says firmly, pulling his hand away. “How could you be such a fool, believing some half-forgotten tale?”

“Because I’m in love with you!” Eric confesses, his vision blurring with tears. “Because I’ve loved you from the day we met and I’d do anything to save you!”

Alan closes his eyes, lips pursed tightly and brows creased. “You love me?” There’s an unsteady wobble in his voice, an inflection of impossible hope.

“Since the day I first laid eyes on you in that dorky Academy uniform.” The smile is a tired one, something his face hasn’t been doing as of late and thus it feels a little foreign, a little nostalgic.

“I was so nervous to meet my mentor I was almost late.” Alan admits as he wrings his hands, “I went to the bathroom a dozen times to fix my tie and fuss over my hair. I was scared stiff you wouldn’t like me.”

“I liked you plenty, and I love you more.” Eric offers his palms, and after a moment’s hesitation Alan gently holds his hands. “Know this, Alan Humphries: whatever this new day brings, there is nothing but your word that would part me from you.”

“Say it again.” Alan’s plea no more than a whisper as he raises his tear-streaked face to look at him. “Say it again Eric Slingby.”

“I love you.” Eric vows. “I love you Alan Humphries.” He bends down, and Alan leans up, and when their lips meet it feels holy and sacrosanct and entirely meant to be.

Alan takes a shuddering breath, and then exhales slowly, palm pressed firmly to his chest. He’s wearing an unreadable expression- something curious, something confused. He breathes deeply in, then out, then in and out again.

“We need to get you warm, the evening chill still lingers just before dawn.” Eric wraps his arms around him and draws him close, hoping to lend him his bodyheat.

“The Thorn feeds on- so, if I’m- if _we’re-_ surely it can’t be _that_ simple? No, I mean-” Alan mutters, voice muffled in Eric’s chest.

“You alright?”

“Yeah.” Alan answers, a little dazed. “I think I am. It feels like I can breathe for the first time in months.”

Alan twines their fingers together and Eric brings their joined hands to his lips so he can kiss them. “Wherever you go Alan, I’ll follow.”

“Then let’s get out of here, partner.” Alan smiles and the sunrise inching over the horizon pales in comparison, he’s so radiant, so beatific Eric knows he’d do it all over again if given the chance. He’ll always choose this path, he’ll always choose Alan.

 

They’re fugitives on the run now, disgraced and outcast from the Division and Eric couldn’t care less, not really. He’ll miss Red, he’ll miss the Pup, and yeah he might even miss stick-in-the-mud Spears but he has Alan and Alan is all he needs. Maybe they can flee to the countryside and he can build Alan a small log cabin like he’s always dreamed of and Alan can have a sprawling garden and maybe just maybe they can live the life Alan deserves.

  


**Author's Note:**

> [I'm still on this hellsite](http://archadianskies.tumblr.com)


End file.
